


You know that he trusts you ( I know that he loves you)

by Undercore



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 'Dying' and then popping up again is a lineage thing, Big Brother Feemor, Brother Padawans, Cody: This is just a piece of paper that says " No u"?, Cody: sir you're not allowed to be here, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feemor: ;), Feemor: no worries I have a permit, Gen, Grief, Implied/Referenced Character Death, It's a collection of various Feemor scenes tbh, Jedi Shadow - Freeform, Jedi Shadow!Feemor, Mention of Obi-wan's friends, Mentioned Anakin Skywalker, Mentioned Qui-Gon Jinn, Mentioned Qui-gon's death, More characters probably to be added, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Obi-wan Gets a Hug and a Nap, Obi-wan deserves to be taken care of, Swearing, as well as more chapters!, eventually, he also needs a vacation, not beta read we die like everyone else in obi's life, this fandom just : / needs more feemor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26980144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Undercore/pseuds/Undercore
Summary: After a couple of heartbeats, the ghost pulled a face at him, when it became apparent that the clone commander wouldn’t be the one backing down, and let out another loud sigh.“I’m not going to kill my little brother, commander, so you can relax.”Cody took in a sharp breath.Little brother?________________________A collection of scenes involving big brother Feemor caring for Obi-wan throughout his life.
Relationships: Feemor & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 31
Kudos: 394





	1. In the night, we are not alone

**Author's Note:**

> Because Obi-wan deserves to be a little brother ( even if it means being unknowingly stalked & fussed over by his unofficial estranged older brother)

There was a ghost haunting the _Negotiator_.

A ghost. 

He hated saying it, because really. A kriffing ghost?

Its appearances were sporadic but they usually happened late during the night cycle, when most of the ship had settled down to rest and it could easily slip unnoticed through the empty corridors. 

It avoided most of the night-shift troops and surveillance cameras and was somehow virtually undetectable to any sensors, it was impossible to find actual proof that it existed.

It’s why Cody hadn’t even been aware there _was_ an intruder on the ship until he’d ran into the ghost himself.

Cody was a bit upset about that. 

He was commander of the 212th. This was their flagship. He knew almost everything that went on within its hull. The only other person who could possibly know more was his general and he hadn’t given any indication that he’d noticed a weird phantom stalking their corridors.

He had overheard some shinies talking about a ghost that would terrorize troopers who turned up late for their shifts or flunked out on cleaning duty but had written it off as some bizarre superstition or boogeyman which the older troops must have spread to the new kids to freak them out.

Surely there wouldn’t actually be anything substantial to that rumor. There couldn’t be.

Except there was. 

He'd seen the ghost (man?) himself on his way to the deck, having been called up because of an issue with their set course, something about a system they were planning to stop in for refuel wanting a word with command first before they let them actually enter. 

The ghost had rounded the corner, spotted him, frozen, then thrown him a small, startled smile before just- _disappearing._ Fading out of existence _. Right in front of him._

Cody hadn’t been sure if he’d kriffing hallucinated the man due to a lack of sleep or if he was losing his mind.

But then he saw him again when he’d gone to check on their general later, the ghost prying a datapad out of Obi-wan’s lax hands, who’d fallen asleep slumped over on the desk, and covering him with a thin blanket before winking at him and poof- _gone_.

He’d gone straight to bed, after that and hoped that would be the last of it. He _had_ been awake for far longer than recommended.

Sadly, he continued to run into the ghost at random odd hours when he was alone.

Cody wasn’t sure what to do. On one hand, there was a strange man lurking around their ship at night, hanging around their general while he was asleep and scaring shinies.

On the other hand, it didn’t seem like he was doing anything actually _harmful,_ and even if he was- how the fuck was Cody supposed to deal with a _ghost_? The man could pop in and out of existence, he was hardly equipped to deal with that kind of crap.

He’d thought about bringing up to their general, but when he’d started probing the man about the force and the possibility of ghosts, the man had just seemed mildly confused as to why Cody was suddenly so interested in spirits and told him that- no, as far as he knew, outside of fragmented sith spirits that were attached to specific artifacts, ghosts weren’t a thing.

Well. Clearly, they _were_ a thing since they had one haunting their kriffing ship.

But hey, if his general didn’t sense anything wrong, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

After all, he wasn’t the force-sensitive one between the two of them. If the Jedi master didn’t sense any malicious intent, it should be fine. 

He hoped, anyway. 

Even if it wasn’t, he didn't want to be sent to medical by the general for mentioning ghosts so he kept his silence.

\---

They were returning from a long grueling campaign on a swamp planet Cody was too tired to remember the name of when the ghost made its next appearance. Everyone’s spirits were low, they’d lost too many brothers. It’d been a kriffing nightmare. Difficult terrain, bad intel, they’d found themselves outnumbered in an ambush, caught out in open and their general had gotten himself shot trying to protect a couple of troopers who’d gotten cornered in a ditch.

He was sitting in the general’s quarters, keeping an eye on the unconscious Jedi while staring down at his datapad, trying to fill out this mission report before he fell asleep.

He just wanted to get it over with now before he passed out, because tomorrow when he awoke, had the mental energy to process the losses, he didn’t want it to be the first thing he had to deal with. Seeing the names, the numbers, the sheer amount of men they’d lost in this disaster of a mission. It was painful.

It took him a few moments before the figure stood by the doorway registered fully in his mind and he flinched, reaching for the blaster he’d placed on the general’s desk and sprung to his feet.

But then he felt a wave of _calm-safe-no threat_ wash over him and the figure stepped out of the shadows, the apologetic smile that danced on the man’s face distinctly familiar.

Their kriffing ship ghost.

He did not want to deal with this right now.

Cody didn’t ease from the defensive posture but did lower his blaster, scowling at the kriffing bastard. If this _was_ a ghost, then he doubted blasters would do much besides startle awake his general and damage the ship.

The ghost held up his hands, slowly inching closer.

Cody’s scowl deepened, his blaster going up again.

The ghost paused, his smile dropping into a small frown.  
  
“ I’m not going to hurt him,” the ghost said, a smidge of irritation bleeding into his voice as if that should be _obvious_ and Cody wanted to smack the man. “ I’m pretty sure I can actually help him.”  
  
There was a stretch of silence as Cody considered his words.

He hadn’t shown any aggressive behavior yet and really, how dangerous could a ghost be? If this was some force related poodoo, then well, he’d be fucked either way. It was probably a good sign that the ghost was respecting Cody’s threats in the first place, willing to cooperate.

“ And how exactly do you plan on ‘helping’ ?” He asked, eyes flicking over briefly to check on the general, who was still sleeping peacefully on his side in his bunk.

Well, Obi-wan didn’t seem to sense any danger.

The ghost shrugged, taking a step closer, “ He’s terribly tired, I’d just be giving him some more energy to heal himself. I won’t do anything but give him a little boost, a little pick me up, that’s all.”  
  
“A little pick me up."

The ghost smiled at him, tilting his head, “ Yes, so, if you wouldn’t mind lowering your blaster-”  
  
Cody hesitated, glancing at his general before nodding, holstering his weapon.  
  
“Thank you.” The ghost’s entire presence brightened before he moved towards Obi-wan.

Cody tensed, sliding closer as well which earned him a look from the other man but he ignored it. Just because this man had lurked around their general before without any known ill-effects didn’t make him any less suspicious or concerning. 

His presence made his skin prickle and his hair stand up, in a similar sense to how Ventress or Dooku unsettled him but less… malicious & threatening and more just- cold and uncomfortable. 

His footsteps were completely silent, his clothes didn’t rustle and even though Cody was staring directly at him, his face seemed to shimmer and swim slightly out of focus so he couldn’t quite make out his features. He could tell his eyes were blue and his hair was blond and he was smiling but his brain just couldn’t add the features together properly.

It was deeply disturbing.

Maybe it was a ghost thing?

Whatever it was, he didn’t like it.

The man now crouched down next to the general, his eyes softening. A big pale hand came up to carefully press against Obi Wan's forehead and the ghosts’ eyes fell shut in focus.

The effect was almost instantaneous. The general let out a small shudder before his muscles relaxed, letting him sink further into his mattress. The pinched look and furrowed brow he had even while sleeping softened and Cody heard a soft sigh escape from his lips. 

His head turned slightly to lean into the ghost’s touch, seeming far more relaxed and happy than Cody had seen in- well, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his general look this unburdened. 

He looked so much younger with the soft expression gracing his features. The fact the man crouched over him practically dwarfed him didn’t help either, it made his general look _small_ , almost vulnerable. Like a child.

Cody shifted, glancing away. It felt- disrespectful. Like it was something private, something wasn’t meant for him to see. 

Another sigh, louder this time, drew his focus back to the ghost who pushed himself up with a soft grunt and turned to Cody. 

Whatever he’d done, it seemed to have tired him because the tall man’s previous friendly, open expression had tightened, his eyes holding a new weight in them and the line of his shoulders had tensed. 

“Please, don’t wake him up for at least another, ah, 5 hours? At least? If something comes up, let someone else deal with it. He just-” The ghost grimaced, a hand coming up to run through his blonde hair, “ Force, he needs a kriffing vacation. And a mind-healer. And a hug. But the best we can do right now is giving him some rest. “  
  
Cody nodded, staring at him wearily. They all needed a vacation and it’s not as if he _wanted_ to ever disturb the general’s rest, he knew how much the man would push himself to his limits and then _further_. 

He’d watched the man forgo rest and pass on food and brush off medical’s request and demands for him to take care of himself like they were just _suggestions_ instead of medical orders. 

The most he could be pressured into doing without being sedated was meditation and Cody really doubted that was a healthy replacement for sleep and food in any way. 

The ghost made to turn, then paused, ice blue eyes boring into Cody, making him tense up again.  
  
“You should get some rest as well, kid. I’ll keep watch.”  
  
Cody raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

Did this man really think he’d just leave him alone with their unconscious general? Ghost or not?

and- _Kid_??  
  
The other man raised an eyebrow back at him and they stood there, staring at each other.

After a couple of heartbeats, the ghost pulled a face at him, when it became apparent that the clone commander wouldn’t be the one backing down, and let out another loud sigh.

“I’m not going to kill my little brother, commander, so you can relax.”  
  
Cody took in a sharp breath.  
_  
_ _Little brother?_

His eyes shot back to Obi-wan on the bed, as if the unconscious Jedi could offer him any answers in regards to this revelation.

The general had never mentioned any family before and Cody had been led to believe that Jedi were _allowed_ to have families in the first place but then again, the general didn’t talk an awful lot about himself and if his brother had died, well, he could understand not wanting to bring that up.

He heard a small huff of amusement from the ghost, who crossed his arms and leaned against the wall above the bunk.  
  
“You seem... surprised.”  
  
Cody shook his head, finding that he was too tired to actually deal with the ghost of a dead brother haunting their general.  
  
“Didn’t think Jedi had families,” he let out, shuffling over to return to his seat. He wasn’t going to leave the general alone with the stranger quite yet but he _was_ tired.  
  
The ghost hummed, glancing down at the general with a fond little smile, “ We don’t.” 

He didn’t elaborate and Cody was very, very tired. Whatever. He clearly wasn’t a threat. He slumped down into the chair, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes.

“Great.” He let out, earning another amused sound from the stranger before he let himself sink into a light sleep.

When he was awoken a few hours later by his the general stirring, the ghost was gone.


	2. Stay as long as you need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feemor is waiting for Obi-wan when he returns from Naboo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jumping back a decade from chapter 1 to get some Obi-wan angst. All of my WIPs are just Obi-wan angst (Ｔ▽Ｔ)

It was late when Feemor finally heard the soft chime of his front door echo through his small apartment.

Scrubbing at his face, he needed to shave, he took a deep breath and tried to settle his frayed nerves before getting up to open the door. 

He needed to hold himself together for a little while longer, no matter how much being awake and aware grated on his soul because when he opened the door, two grey-blue eyes looked up at him with so much pain, his younger padawan-brother looking so goddamn lost standing there in a cloak that was clearly too large for him in the dimly lit hallway of the dilapidated skyscraper Feemor called home.

Feemor noticed with a painful lurch of his stomach that Obi-wan’s padawan braid was gone.

He’d been knighted. 

Kriffing hell, he wanted to scream.

Without further thought, he pulled the young- _knight_ , he was- he was a knight now- into the apartment, kicking the door closed behind him before ushering the kid to the low table and cushions shoved into the corner next to the kitchen. 

He pushed Obi-wan down into the seating area, squeezing his shoulder in comfort before turning slightly to put on the kettle, trying to pull helpful thoughts into his exhausted brain.

Obi-wan sunk down into the pile of pillows and blankets Feemor hadn’t bothered to clean up from the last time Obi-wan had visited him, months ago.

The memory ached, the then padawan had popped up, uninvited, into his apartment one early morning with a mischievous smile and bag of groceries clutched in his hands. Behind him followed Quinlan Vos and Bant Eerin, all of them in incredibly high spirits for how early it had been.

Apparently, Obi-wan had ‘let himself be coerced’ into pulling a prank on some Jedi masters including his own, spiking their tea and breakfast with particularly spicy and bitter Mandalorian seasoning. 

They’d needed a place to hide away for a while and Feemor couldn’t find a good excuse to send them away, especially when Quinlan started pulling out various alcoholic drinks from the bag Obi-wan had carried in.

Day drinking and hiding away a pair of errant padawans and a Jedi knight who should really know better, the man had his _own padawan_ for kriff’s sake, wasn’t what Feemor had _planned_ to do that day but well, he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to rat them out.

So he’d joined the bickering group as they made themselves comfortable in his living room, nabbing a can of beer as he settled next to his padawan-brother, smiling as Quinlan proposed a drinking game while Bant won the argument over what they should watch by aggressively gaining control over the remote.

Obi-wan had leaned lightly into his side, quietly sending him a small burst of gratitude and warmth through the force as he watched his friends and Feemor had suddenly been struck by his own wave of emotions, love and fondness and pride blooming in his chest at what the young man, his little brother, had become.

Feemor had watched Obi-wan’s first year of training with a mix of mild resentment and morbid fascination which quickly turned into a protective fury after he’d returned from a diplomatic mission one day & heard that Qui-gon Jinn had left his _13-year-old_ apprentice _alone,_ in a war, on Melida/Daan.

He’d watched Qui-gon stumble and fumble his way through training his third padawan in those first months, his old master seemingly completely lost at how to connect with the young teen he’d taken up as his apprentice and making every mistake possible, despite clearly trying his hardest to not make a repeat of what had happened to Xanatos.

When the teen had eventually found himself back with the Order, Feemor had been ready to offer himself up as the kid’s master. Up until that point, he hadn’t considered taking on another padawan learner anytime soon, feeling he was needed too much out on the field at the time and believed himself unable to divide his attention fairly between work, teaching, and raising a teen. 

To Fermor's immense surprise though, his former master had taken the boy back. 

He wouldn’t comment on whether he thought that was a good idea, he wouldn’t. It was done. 

He felt a twinge of regret at not having been able to make the offer to Obi-wan though, a small part of him wondering what could have been.

He’d made an effort to be more in his padawan-brother’s life after that though, aggressively deciding to be someone stable that Obi-wan could rely on, no matter what, someone who would be there for the kid while his master went through his third mid-life crisis of the week regarding his new padawan and furiously avoided getting help or visiting the mind-healers to deal with his trauma healthily.

The apartment they were currently in had actually been acquired _because_ he wanted a safe space for his brother, away from the Temple. It had come in handy for various other things, including a respite for Feemor himself, but really, it was a place for Obi-wan, for when he didn’t know where else to go.

He didn’t technically own it himself, he would have to thank his friend Talla for that, still being a Jedi and all, but he was the only one living in it currently. There wouldn’t be any unwanted visitors.

Feemor let out a soft sigh, tilting his head slightly to watch Obi-wan.

The kid was just sitting despondently among the pillows, a far-away look in his eyes. He looked tired. He looked like the world was weighing on his shoulders and Feemor hated it. 

He should be out celebrating his knighthood with his friends, getting into trouble, and moving into his own room within the temple, preparing to start taking missions without his master and stretching his legs with the newfound freedom knighthood offered.

Letting the rushing noise of the heating water fill the silence, Feemor focused on compartmentalizing the rushing current of his emotions that wanted to spike after seeing Obi-wan. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to scream and cry and _grieve._

Qui-gon was _dead_.

But that was for later.

Right now, he needed calm, he needed comfort. He needed to be a stable rock for Obi-wan to lean on, something familiar and welcoming after the nightmare of the past weeks.

Pouring both of them a cup, Feemor sat back down at the table, sitting close to his brother-padawan but still giving him a little space.

He let the silence continue for a little bit, collecting his thoughts, sipping at the scalding hot brew. 

A muffled whimper makes him whip his head up.

Obi-wan had drawn a blanket around himself, making himself almost disappear in a pile of fabric but it couldn’t hide the way his shoulders had begun to shake as he tried to hold in sobs, covering his now wet face with trembling hands.

“ Hey, hey, hey,” Feemor murmured, putting his tea back down and pulling the bundled up knight into his arms.

Obi-wan let out a ragged gasp as he pressed his face into the crook of the older Jedi's neck, a hand fisting itself tightly into Feemor’s robes.

“ I’ve got you, kid, just let it out,” he rocked them slowly, a hand coming up to gently comb through Obi-wan’s spiky hair. “ I’ve got you, you’re safe. You’re safe here.”  
  
He felt Obi-wan shake his head, shoulders trembling, voice coming out strained and cracked as he shuddered out his grief in the safety of his brother’s arms.   
  
“ It was my fault, I saw- I knew, I knew and I- wasn’t fast _enough_ and he-” He felt the words against his damp collarbone, drenched in misery and grief and self-blame. 

Feemor let out a soft sound of disagreement, tightening his hold on the kid as he pressed a kiss against his hair.

He didn’t get the full details on what the fuck had happened on Naboo, the Council was keeping all information regarding that disaster under strict need to know basis and as the disowned, estranged padawan of Qui-gon Jinn who had been on the other side of the system at the time of the events, he wasn’t considered someone who had any business knowing any details.

He thought that was bantha shit seeing as he had a crying Obi-wan in his arms now and no idea how to comfort him because he had no idea what the fuck had even happened. 

“ It’s not your fault, Obi.” He murmured, pressing a kiss against his forehead. “ None of this is your fault.”  
  
“ But it is!” Obi-wan wailed, pushing back against Feemor so that he could pull back and meet his brother’s eyes.

His face was flushed, eyes red and puffy and his lip trembled as he tried to bite back another sob, trying to get the words out that he felt he needed to.  
  
“ I knew it was coming, I saw it- I saw it, Fee, I saw it.” He shuddered, balled fists coming up to press against his eyes. “ And I fell and we got separated and he wouldn’t wait and he was fighting by himself and all I could do was watch as he was stabbed and I- I tried- but I wasn’t fast enough and he still died, he- he died.”

Obi-wan let out a low keening noise, falling forward again as Feemor pulled him back into his arms, curling in on himself as silent sobs wracked his body.  
  
“He’s _dead_ . Because of _me_.”

Feemor pressed his face against Obi-wan’s cropped hair, squeezing his eyes shut at the painful helpless feeling welling up inside of him.

“It’s not your fault.” He repeated, trying to send a wave of soothing calm towards his brother, “ Obi, you know this.”  
  
He didn’t get an answer, just fists clenching and unclenching in his robes.   
  
“ You know how uncertain the future can be, kid. Even if you had told Qui-gon every single little detail of your vision- you don’t know if that would have been enough to change it. You just- can’t know. It isn’t your fault, okay?”   
  
He felt Obi-wan shift slightly in his arms, still remaining stubbornly silent.   
  
“ I don’t blame you,” Feemor whispered, rubbing a hand in soothing circles against his brother’s back. “ No one is blaming you for this. You did your best.”   
  
“ You can’t- _know_ that,” came the quiet protest against his collarbone.   
  
He sighed, reaching over to pull up the blanket that had begun to slip down Obi-wan’s shoulders.

“ Yes, I can kid-”  
  
“ No, because there’s- he- I promised to take care of Anakin and- I’m here, crying in your arms like I’m a kriffing youngling and I shouldn’t, there’s so much to do and I can’t do it, Feemor, I can’t do this!” Obi-wan let out another shuddering gasp, panic spiking in the force around him,” I’m going to kriff this all up and I don’t even know what I’m doing, I was still a padawan a few days ago and I-I don’t know what the kriff I’m doing!”

“Hey,” Feemor cut into his rambling firmly, brushing his hand through Obi-wan's hair, “ You don’t have to do anything right now, Obi. We’re not at the Temple, there’s nothing you have to do here besides rest.”

He didn’t get another reply, but felt the young knight begin to relax in his arms, the fight suddenly leaving him as Feemor pushed _calm, love, security_ down their faint bond. 

It wasn’t a very strong bond, since it shouldn’t technically exist at all, but it was still a bond and enough for Feemor to offer his brother padawan some stability.  
  
“I’m here for you, kid. You’re not alone, whatever you think you have to do, I’ll help you. It’s gonna be okay. Okay?”   
  
He felt Obi-wan grunt and squeezed him briefly.   
  
“ Okay?” He prompted again, wanting confirmation that he’d been heard.

“...Okay..” Obi-wan murmured tiredly, the exhaustion from the past days and his outburst suddenly catching up with him.

Feemor wrapped his arms securely around his little brother as he drifted off to sleep, holding him tight and staring blankly into the darkness of his living room.

He was so kriffing tired, but his brother’s words continued to ring in his mind and the echoes of grief and pain lingered in the Force around them. He couldn’t relax. Obi-wan was hurting and needed support but Feemor's schedule was punishingly busy as of late. Force, he didn’t even have enough time to deal with his own grief right now.

He couldn’t stay and care for his brother like he wanted to, he just had to hope that Obi-wan’s friends were around to support him and whoever Anakin was.

He frowned, rubbing at his brow. Anakin. Anakin. Wasn’t that the kid that had been brought to the Temple recently by Qui-gon? Bultar mentioned him when he’d rushed back at the news of Qui-gon’s death but it hadn’t been as important as finding out if Obi-wan was okay.

Feemor let out a sigh, connecting the dots. Qui-gon picked up a child, died, and then made Obi-wan promise to take care of him. He wasn’t surprised. It still irritated him. Obi-wan had still been a padawan, he hadn’t had any time to properly stretch his legs and experience being an adult by himself and Qui-gon had just fostered a child on him and-  
  
He let out a breath, tilting his head back. Breathe.

He was going to have to talk to Yoda tomorrow before he left.


End file.
